War of the Fables, Arc 1: Cinders and Wildfires
by Second Wolf
Summary: Ten years before a climactic battle with the God-Titan Arceus, determined to reshape the country in his image, Red Hearthfire begins an odyssey to obtain the Badges of Kanto but unearths a haunting, apocalyptic secret his parents created. To combat it, he will either discover the light in his darkness or replace it as an even worse villain in this reimagining of Pokemon lore.
1. Part 1 - From Avarice, Awakening

_Yamato is burning. The Legends, ancient beasts of unfathomable power, have awoken after slumbering for millennia. Unable to cope with the sudden rise in Legendary aura, a potent form of the life force in every being, the land of Yamato becomes stricken with an affliction called Primal Madness, turning humans and Pokemon weak to it into violent killing machines. The demons of the past, once locked away to avoid tainting the land, are free to wreak their destruction once more._

 _At the heart of this terrifying conflict is the most powerful Trainer of this lifetime: Red Hearthfire. Whether he is the source of the chaos, the solution to it, or both at once, is anyone's guess._

 _While Yamato rages, Red Hearthfire leads his team of Pokemon up the slopes of Mt. Coronet to put an end to the conflict. At the top of the mountain lies a battle that will forever change the course of history._

 _The God-Titan Arceus, after all, has never been challenged before._

 _The battle atop Mt. Coronet cannot be understood alone, nor how the world changed thereafter. To comprehend its effect, to prevent history from repeating itself, we must go back before that fateful battle. In the years leading to the fight, four Trainers and their teams worked to alter the course of history. Their motivations differed, but their endgame was similar._

 _This story can only start a decade before the battle, when Red Hearthfire was not a fearsome warrior with an army, but an eighteen-year-old boy with delusions of grandeur and a lust for power. Would his quest to sit over Yamato as its strongest Trainer doom the land, or save it?_

* * *

This Pokemon novel is a multimedia project. Cutscenes expanding on the characters and background will be uploaded to YouTube as they become available. Yamatoan lore and art will also be featured on the War of the Fables website when it goes live. Stay tuned to Second Wolf's profile for links and updates.

Artwork by bramhistory.


	2. Prologue: The Kindling Flames

_**10 YEARS BEFORE THE BATTLE WITH ARCEUS**_

* * *

"Are you a boy?" the kooky old professor asked, staring through his spectacles down at Red before slowly removing them. "Or are you a girl?"

Red raised an eyebrow. He wasn't in the mood for a professor-ism right now. "The hell is that supposed to mean, professor?"

Red Hearthfire stood in the small but homey research lab in Pallet Town, the most modern building in the tiny settlement and, as far as Red was concerned, the only interesting part about the place. Upon entering the blocky, rectangular building, he'd walked past rows of desks, tables and computers to answer Professor Oak's summons in his back office. The lab smelled uncomfortably sterile, like at any moment someone would come around the corner with a giant needle and politely ask to stab Red for science, but the employees were friendly and the work atmosphere was lax.

He observed the professor through his black bangs, waiting for him to elaborate. Being summoned to the back office usually meant he was getting a lecture or his most recent petty crime was being unveiled to the world, so he took a deep breath in and waited for another discourse on science and morality.

Then again, Professor Oak had summoned his grandson Viral, too. Unless Viral had inexplicably done a one-eighty and turned from an uptight goody-two-shoes to a troublemaker and small-time pyromaniac like Red, Oak probably wasn't putting someone through the ringer. Viral brushed aside the brown hair that hung over his face and waited patiently for his grandfather to continue. Red always wondered how his hair did that naturally, shorter in the back, sticking up on top like a crest before dipping downward. In contrast, Red's straight black hair just reaching to his neck in the back looked ordinary.

Professor Oak lowered himself carefully to his ergonomic yet ancient and somewhat beaten-down office chair, crossing his legs and looking between them expectantly. Something had him excited. "I have a sort of low-key proposal for you. I've done a lot of thinking about it, and I think it's something the two of you would truly benefit from. Red, you're going to like this, so listen up."

Red, who had been fiddling with an expensive-looking pen, stopped mid-fiddle and glanced down at the professor. Professor Oak knew damn well what sorts of things made Red happy, and they usually made everyone around him less happy. "Go on."

Viral eyed Red suspiciously but made no comment.

Professor Oak turned his chair around and began rifling through a desk. "The two of you have spent most of your lives in this tiny bundle of sticks we call Pallet. A lovely place to retire, but for the young and restless, I'm sure it doesn't feel like much more than a pretty view of the world you wish you could explore. Sound familiar?"

Red crossed his arms and gently tapped a finger on his bicep, trying to maintain a poker face. Actually, that sounded very familiar. Maybe the professor had been paying more attention to Red than he'd realized. Then again, the man was knowledgeable about all things science, and that extended to psychology.

Pallet Town was a very beautiful prison. Red craved the world outside its borders, harsh and ugly though it may have been.

If Professor Oak understood that, maybe Red would enjoy what he said next after all.

The professor finally turned back around from the desk, two red metal devices in hand. They looked vaguely like oversized, antiquated cellphones, but Red recognized them as the professor's labor of love over the past couple of years. "You know what these are?" he asked them, a boyish smile spreading across his face.

Viral raised his eyebrows. "You finished the PokeDex?"

Oak chortled. "Well, not quite. You see, they're rather empty."

Red rubbed his chin, wondering what the professor's mini-computers had to do with Red and his general desire for conquest and domination. "Remind me what it is these doohickeys accomplish again."

Oak tapped a finger on one thoughtfully. "There's a lot we still don't know about Pokemon, and Trainers still need a lot of help with their profession, even in this day and age. The PokeDex is a way to quickly and efficiently analyze Pokemon on the spot, provided they sit still long enough for one to scan them with the PokeDex. It takes all the hard work out of random Trainer polling and deep study of individual Pokemon, giving the scientific community a much broader picture of the world we live in. Using this technology we could detect epidemics in Pokemon as they arise, observe trends, learn how the ecology is changing as it changes..."

"Make the world a better place one small step at a time?" Red summarized.

The professor winked at him. "If we're not on the same page, you're at least a couple behind me."

Computers. Science. Pokemon. Red liked all three, but he wasn't necessarily keen on the idea of having to take hours away from helping Christine work at Maia's farm near the edge of town. He had no special love for farming, but Christine was essentially all the family he had left. "What's our role in this, and does it pay?"

"A man who cuts straight to the chase," Viral muttered.

"An admirable quality in this day and age," Professor Oak stated, ever looking for the best in people, though unfortunately one had to dig with a shovel to find it in Red. "It's not something that pays, per se. It's not a job, just a request from a man too old to get the job done himself. I want you two to get the ball rolling on the PokeDex, start gathering data where you can, spread the word, give me intel on how they're faring. This is stuff I'd love to see mass produced, but we're still in the testing stage. If you're willing, I want you boys to move us to the next stage."

Viral gingerly took one of the PokeDexes from his grandfather's hand and studied it, turning it over in his hands. Deciding if it was good enough for Viral, it was good enough for him, Red took the remaining one a little less gingerly. "That's a lot to entrust to a couple of country bumpkins," Viral said, running a finger over the polished red surface.

"Knowing my luck," Red joked, "it'll become self-aware and orchestrate humanity's undoing before the weekend is over."

Viral uttered a dark-humored laugh. "It would match its user pretty well."

"I know. Lucky me."

Oak cleared his throat. "This goes without saying, but that technology is expensive and hard to recreate at this point, so don't go using it as a coaster or something."

Viral shook his head. "Trust me, I won't. I know how much this means to you."

Red rapped the PokeDex against his wrist, testing its durability. It was holding up fine so far. "So, what's the plan? Any time we see a wild Pokemon, we politely ask it not to bathe us in fire and Hyper Beams long enough to enter itself into a pocket computer?"

Oak put his hands behind his head and leaned back, eyeing Red's PokeDex carefully. "How you use it is up to you. You could ask other Trainers to lend you a hand. You could become Trainers yourselves. Either way, there's not a whole lot you can do from just Pallet Town."

Red's heart skipped a beat. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Oak continued, "this is your excuse to skip town and try new things. For science."

Nobody actually forbade Red from leaving Pallet Town. He was eighteen years old and he was more than capable of fending for himself. It was more the looks of disappointment and concern he knew he'd have to endure if he went too far outside its borders, and for the life of him he didn't know why that even bothered him so much.

Between Pallet Town and Viridian City to the north was a route with patches of forest and tall grass, the perfect playground for Pokemon who may or may not attack an unwary traveler for looking at them funny. Since precious few Trainers lived in Pallet Town and therefore they didn't have much to protect themselves beyond hunting rifles and sticks, journeying outside the borders was a risk most villagers were unwilling to take. Beyond that, Red's adoptive sister, Christine, didn't make a great deal of money working on the farm and selling her clay crafts from home, so Red bailing on Pallet was like telling her to go screw herself and pay for the house on her own.

It shouldn't have mattered. Red didn't know where "home" was for him, only that it wasn't Pallet Town. Everyone had to embrace change or get left behind, and sadly for Pallet Town, most of its residents weren't the changing type.

Now it sounded like the professor was giving Red a free pass. Even better, he hadn't heard a caveat so far outside of reporting in once in a blue moon. "When do we start?" Red asked.

"Slow down, Red," Oak explained patiently. "How you go about this is up to you two. However, you can't simply toddle through the grass to Viridian City with an especially large branch and pray for your own safety. Regardless of whether you Train or not, it'll be important to have a Pokemon by your side. That's why I'd like you to begin your PokeDex journey with one of my...lab assistants."

Free Pokemon. What with an unsuccessful harvest this time of year, Red losing his favorite camping cook pot, and his favorite TV show being cancelled, Red wasn't having a good week, but this was starting to make up for it all. "Unless you're talking about Greg with the neckbeard, sign me up."

Oak stood from his chair, crossed the office, and opened the door to the rest of the lab. Eyes down to the floor outside, he gestured someone toward the office. "Come on. This is the moment you were waiting for."

There was the pitter-patter of little feet. Red typically placed babies firmly in the "annoying" category, but something was adorable about this.

Three Pokemon turned the corner and entered the office, all barely taller than Red's knee. One was a quadruped with a large green bulb on its back, a blue-skinned dinosaur that might have looked a bit scary with its red eyes and fangs if Red wasn't a twisted lunatic. Behind it was a bipedal lizard, orange-skinned, eyes big and wide set in a round head. Most notable were the flames kindling on the end of its tail, not large enough to immediately set fire to everything around it but still enough to warrant concern, Red would think. The third Pokemon was a blue turtle-like creature with a thick brown shell, walking upright, its fluffy tail swaying back and forth. It waved up at Red, then tripped over the office threshold and landed on its face. Without a word, the first Pokemon produced a tiny vine from beneath its bulb and pried the turtle back onto its feet.

Bulbasaur, Charmander and Squirtle, representing Grass, Fire and Water respectively. They weren't Pokemon easy to find in this day and age.

Viral knelt down to their level, smiling like he was looking at a kennel of puppies. "Hey there. How long have you guys been here?"

The Charmander looked at the Bulbasaur and Squirtle as if hoping for backup, then murmured, "A week, I guess. Been a nice place."

"How many things have you set on fire?" Red asked.

The Charmander looked slightly taken aback. It tried in vain to hide its tail, muttering a number too low for Red to hear, but probably higher than zero. Good thing the professor was so forgiving.

A good thing indeed, or Red wouldn't be here.

"There's an ongoing study," Professor Oak explained, "trying to place the origins and nature of the Grass, Fire, and Water Pokemon of each region in Yamato, because as I'm sure you know, each region has its own little triangle thing going on. These three here agreed to hang around the lab and help us with that research. A lot of Yamatoan professors are hopping on board." The professor leaned against the wall next to the door, looking fondly down at the tiny creatures. The most adorable death weapons Red had ever seen, because there was no mistake to be made - Pokemon were engines of war. "But I did some talking with them, and they're interested in seeing more of the world outside these borders. Something I'm sure a couple of young men in this office can relate to."

Viral stroked the Bulbasaur's bulb. His sister Daisy was good with Pokemon, so perhaps it ran in the family. "Partners, working toward a common goal. I can get behind that."

The Bulbasaur stared up at him, eyes keen and discerning. "In essence, that would make you two Trainers, yes? In the business of war."

Viral smiled. "In the business of protection."

Red rocked on his heels. His own sentiments were slightly different. He was, after all, a man who cut to the chase, so he took a step toward the three tiny Pokemon, hands clasped behind his back, standing tall over them, and made his intentions clear. "Protection, science, advancement, all good things I stand behind. But let me be up front before you sign on to a madman's scheme: I am in the business of war. I will be a Trainer, and under my guidance you will be my arms and legs. We will conquer Kanto and reform it to be generally less sucky. Peace is not our domain. We deal in power."

Viral sighed. "Way to crank the Crazy Factor from a 3 to at least a 7."

The Bulbasaur eyed Red with a hint of mirth. "What brought it to a 3, I wonder?"

Professor Oak, still leaning against the wall, said nothing, merely observing the exchange. He knew exactly what sort of man Red was, what he valued and despised.

Red turned his eyes up to the professor. "You're certain you want to give me a tool of war?"

"They're not just tools of war," Viral mumbled, knowing it would be lost on Red.

Professor Oak was as patient and contemplative as ever. "You may both agree to a fruitful partnership. Just know all conquests run on trust, Red, or else they end in disappointment and a healthy dose of blood and fire."

Red nodded, hearing without listening. He'd heard more than enough of the old man's lectures to know where he was coming from. He turned his attention back down to the Pokemon by his feet. "So. Who agrees to a fruitful partnership of power and conquest?"

None of the Pokemon backed away or ran for the door, so that was a good early sign. Red knelt and scooped up the Charmander like a small child, careful to keep it at arm's length so the tail flame didn't singe his clothes.

They stared into each other's eyes, reading one another like a book. Red gave the Charmander a lopsided, mirthful grin, the look he usually adopted when about to clue someone in to his most recent scheme. "How does reigning supreme with a Champion sound? Do you want people to stand a little straighter every time you enter the room?"

The Charmander blinked, tiny shoulders bunched up by its head. "I mean, I guess?"

Still crouching on the floor, Viral licked his lips, not looking at Red. "Red, is there some other maniacal plot you've cooked up you'd like to share with us?"

"Trust me," Red responded, "it's been simmering in the pot for years." Having learned what he needed from the Charmander, Red set it down, its nubby talons clacking on the floor, then lifted up the Bulbasaur next with a groan. It was probably the heaviest of the bunch. "What say you, floral saurian? Power, money, respect, women? On a tier of our own, answering to no one?" The Bulbasaur merely stared at him, eyes narrowed. Wondering if it would bite him or urinate on him if he continued, he silently put it down and scooped up the Squirtle next, trying the same tactic. "How about you, turtle tot? You and me, warriors unparalleled, taking what we desire, giving no quarter."

The Squirtle nodded eagerly, though no spark of recognition or understanding was in its eyes. "Yeah!"

Red frowned. He suspected he could have offered to boot the Squirtle off a cliff like a ball and it still would have agreed. He set it down and leaned back, observing the three Pokemon. Viral hadn't made a move so far.

To be honest, Red didn't have any solid plans for dominance. He wasn't much good at the strategy phase. All he knew was that he was tired of being in the dark. Life owed him answers. It owed him revenge. He would get neither sitting around waiting to die in Pallet.

Growing stronger, commanding respect and even fear from those around him, becoming more than nothing, was the only way he knew how to get what he wanted.

And one of these three Pokemon would help him do it. But only one.

He looked at each one pointedly. The Charmander shifted awkwardly. The Bulbasaur didn't move, eyes still locked on his face. The Squirtle looked around the room, something having caught its attention.

There was one he found more intriguing than the others. He didn't know if a partnership would work, but he was dying to find out.

He extended a hand to the Bulbasaur. "Please join me. Help me make Kanto a better place. Let's become better than whatever we are now."

"And remember," Viral interjected with all the politeness he could muster, "you're always free to decline."

The Bulbasaur stared at Red's open hand. He started to retract it, thinking it might nip off a finger or two, but instead it walked forward and sat by Red's feet. "You have my attention, conqueror. I look forward to you proving you're not simply full of wind."

Red laughed softly. "That's all I ask, little plant monster."

Viral chewed his lip. After a few seconds of thoughtful chewing, he nodded to the Charmander and said, "Hey. I can't promise power and glory and all that, but I can help you explore the world. My grandfather's task is an important one. Can you help me do it?"

The Charmander looked between Red and Viral, then bobbed its head. "Yeah. I can do that."

Red saw what Viral was doing. Viral didn't trust Red, as well he shouldn't have. Fire-type Pokemon had the advantage over Grass-types. If Red ever asked the Bulbasaur to attempt anything unsavory, Viral and his Charmander would have the edge over it in a battle.

But Red had studied Pokemon, Training and battling plenty, long before he'd even had a shot at having a Pokemon of his own. There was more to battling than any single member of a team. Red needed an army, and this tiny blue-skinned Bulbasaur was an excellent start.

Professor Oak looked down to the Squirtle. "Well, little one, do you have any objections, or can you help me here at the lab? I could always use an eager little scientist or two running around."

The Squirtle beamed up at him. "I can do that."

That thing was the most agreeable _anything_ Red had ever met. He wondered how it would fare on his team. However, he had made his decision, and he would become the strongest Trainer he could, the Bulbasaur by his side.

* * *

Red strode out of the lab, breathing in the fresh afternoon air, salted by the brine of the waves lapping on Pallet's southern shores. His first steps as a Pokemon Trainer. He'd never thought someone would be so dense as to actually allow him one.

Pallet Town was fairly small, somewhere around a hundred and twenty buildings jumbled together on a series of green hills dipping into the ocean to the south, flanked by trees on the west and east. The lab was near the edge of town, a short walk to a bluff overlooking the beach farther below, the waves pounding on the sand in a rhythmic song Red couldn't unhear.

What a beautiful prison, and the front door had been left open.

He heard the rustle of hasty footsteps on grass behind him as Viral followed him out. He was sure the Charmander wasn't far behind.

"I kept my mouth shut," Viral started, "because I didn't want things becoming even more awkward, but you need to start talking. Conquest? Championship? I thought those were jokes. What are you planning on doing now that you have a Pokemon?"

Red winked down at the Bulbasaur. The Bulbasaur remained impassive. Red turned back to Viral and took a deep breath in, ready to lay out his thin excuse for a plan. "Well you see, it's quite simple, Viral. I'm not a big fan of Pallet Town. Or of Kanto, or even of Yamato, really. I don't like their secrets. I don't like their...rigidness. So starting today, I'm prying whatever answers I want from this country's stiff, stubborn fingers, and I'm not waiting for a by-your-leave. Today, I am war, and I'm only going to get stronger. If that means becoming Champion, so be it. If that means conquering Yamato in flames, you'll see me there flickering in the fire light."

Viral exhaled and slapped his hands against his side disbelievingly. "What, with one Pokemon?"

Red crossed his arms. "Every army starts with a couple of soldiers and a handful of swords."

Viral shook his head. Red would have thought he'd be used to this sort of thing by now. "So that's it. Become Champion of Kanto or whatever, you write the rules, you answer to nobody. Yeah, sounds bulletproof."

Red turned away and continued walking to the bluff overlooking the ocean. "It's not a plan, it's an ideal. Plans can sink. Ideals never do."

Viral sighed. Red could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "They do if you're the only one carrying the banner." He paused. "Why, though? You're a nutcase, and an avaricious one at that. I get it. To be honest, I'm not worried about whether you'll succeed or fail, because a nutcase can only take a revolution so far. I'm just worried what you might do along the way."

Red stopped walking. "Whatever I want, Viral. That's the idea."

"And the 'answers?'" Viral prompted. "What are you trying to learn about yourself?"

Red was offended he even had to ask.

Cinnabar Island. It wasn't far from the Pallet coastline, maybe ten miles or even less. Ambitious types had swum the distance between the two. A couple had drowned and one had been killed by an apparently short-tempered Tentacruel, but that was beside the point. It was close, a haunting, burning reminder of what Red had lost, what had stuck him in this tiny seaside town to begin with. He couldn't get away from it.

Until today.

"Listen," Viral tried, a little more softly. "I understand how you feel."

"Do you?" Red grunted.

"Just don't hurt yourself digging up the truth, whatever it is. Yourself or anyone else."

"I guarantee you I will," Red muttered. "And that's the way I want it." He glanced down at the Bulbasaur by his left foot. "Still interested in tagging along?"

The Bulbasaur blinked. "You know, regardless of whether we live or die, it's not going to be boring, I'll give you that much."

"Good man," Red responded. He hesitated. "Woman. Thing. What are you, anyway? All you cutesy little Pokemon sound alike until you evolve."

"Female, Red," the Bulbasaur said in a monotone voice. "I am female."

"Another mystery solved."

Viral shifted in place. "When are you going to leave, then?"

Red checked his watch, looked at the sky, analyzed the weather. He turned to the north, checking out the winding path that led up out of Pallet Town straight to Viridian City a mere day's journey away by foot. "Let's say, one or two hours?"

Viral scowled. Red had said something wrong. Around Viral, he hardly ever said anything right. "Come on, Red. You've lived here for years. Give it a couple days at least."

Red scratched the side of his head. "Funny, this place doesn't feel much like home."

"Where is 'home?'"

Red looked at Viral pointedly. "Boy would I love to find out."

Viral ran a hand through his hair. "You can't just pick up and leave with only an hour's notice. The roads are dangerous without an escort, and one Bulbasaur fresh from the lab isn't going to help you if a rampaging Onix comes barreling out of Victory Road. No offense."

The Bulbasaur raised and lowered her shoulders as best she could. "You speak truth."

The more Viral tried to dissuade him, the more Red wanted to push his luck. He was good at keeping his head and improvising. He started walking back toward his house in the northwest section of town. "I like a challenge, and I enjoy camping. The Pokemon around Pallet are weak and docile. I'll take my chances. Before a horde of do-gooders try and change my mind."

"Why?" Viral asked, brow furrowing. "Because they might succeed?" Red ignored him and tried to pass him by, but Viral put an arm out to stop him. "Hey. It's not just you in that house. What happened to staying with Christine to help make ends meet?"

Red tightened a fist, relaxing it before Viral could notice. "The iron is still hot, Viral. I'm going to strike. This can't wait. I'll send a postcard."

Viral stared him down. "You _are_ afraid someone will talk you out of this."

Red brushed his arm away and kept walking. "No, the bitter tastes of mediocrity and disappointment cancel out all the discouraging words. You always told me to get a life. Now I am."

"Then how about this," Viral called as Red stepped away. Red stopped long enough to humor him. "You want to be a strong Trainer. Let's start Training. We'll have a battle right here, and if I win, you at least stay in town until tomorrow morning. Christine deserves that much."

The Bulbasaur wouldn't take her perceptive eyes off Red. He tried to ignore her. "And if you lose, you jump naked into the ocean. Bonus points for a belly flop. It'll be a good memory to take with me to Viridian."

Viral rolled his eyes. "If you win, I give you 80 yamayen, because we all know you'll need it out there. The real world's not like Pallet Town."

Red glared at him. "You forget I was born outside of Pallet. I've just spent the past decade here is all."

"And," Viral added, "you can take that handcrafted map of Kanto hanging up in my room. Use it to plan your war strategies or whatever. Deal?"

If Red lost, he had to spend a full day with Christine, either explaining to her why he was leaving or crafting a clever lie so she thought he was coming back soon. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with his adoptive sister. He just wasn't looking forward to the talks, or the looks. If he won, he would have a little extra spending money and a souvenir. And a chance to flirt with Viral's sister because he knew it would annoy him.

He put his hands in his pockets. It wasn't an unhealthy risk. "Fine. Go get him, Bulbasaur."

The Bulbasaur threw one more dagger-filled look in Red's direction before striding forward. "My pleasure, captain."

Viral bent down to his Charmander's level again. "Are you all right with this? I wasn't planning on Training so soon. It just sort of came out. It's all right to back out."

The Charmander swallowed. It was a brave little Pokemon, but it had also spent the past week bonding with the Bulbasaur. "Yeah. Let's do it."

The Bulbasaur and Charmander stopped about ten feet away from each other. Red and Viral stepped back, giving them space to fight, though Red was fairly confident neither had any combat experience. No better way to learn than by immersion, he figured.

It occurred to Red he didn't know how actual Pokemon battles started. It was apparently the one thing he hadn't paid much attention to in his studies. He chopped a hand downward and said, "Uh, _hajime?_ "

Nothing happened. The Charmander shifted uncomfortably. The Bulbasaur stood there like a rock.

"That means go," Viral translated.

Like flipping a switch, the Charmander raised a claw, gave a high-pitched shout, and swung its hand down at the Bulbasaur's head. The Bulbasaur waited until the last moment before stepping aside and ramming the Charmander with her shoulder. The fiery lizard staggered back, panting.

"Tackle," Red instructed, watching the small battlefield like a hawk. "Eat the pain."

Viral took just a second too long to think of a counter. The Charmander swung its tail on its own, attempting to ward its friend off with sparks and cinders, but the Bulbasaur plowed through it and pinned the Charmander to the ground, one thick leg on its chest to keep it down. One thin, nubby vine snaked out from under her bulb, hovering over the Charmander's face.

Red laughed. He'd chosen the right Pokemon after all. "I'd say that's pretty conclusive. If your lizard blinks a little funny, it's getting a face full of plant."

The Charmander smiled sheepishly. The Bulbasaur frowned, eyes a little heavy, and stepped off its chest. The vine sucked back into an unseen space under her bulb.

Viral put his hands in his pockets as the Charmander returned to its feet. "Guess I've still got a lot to learn about battling."

"Don't feel too bad," Red offered. "I've been fantasizing about this day for years. I've had plenty of time to do my research." He gestured to his Bulbasaur. "Now come along, trusted lieutenant. We have a world to conquer."

Viral patted his Charmander on the head, then hastened his steps toward Red. "Hey, a deal's a deal. Don't forget the prize money and the map."

Red raised a hand in dismissive farewell, still walking. His Bulbasaur trotted along by his side. "Already on my way to your place. Is your sister home?"

Viral paused. "Yes," he answered a little tersely.

"Then I'll meet you there. Prepare your piggy bank."

Viral upped his pace to walk beside Red. He looked flustered, or maybe that scowl had finally wound up permanently etched on his face. "And then you're going home to visit Christine, right?"

"Of course," Red replied, trying his best to boil down his feelings to simple black-and-white. "I do need to pack after all."

Viral sighed through his nose and looked away, falling to silence. His Charmander toddled along behind him.

After a few seconds of quiet, Red's Bulbasaur looked back up to him. "Eat the pain?" she reiterated.

Red didn't meet her gaze or apologize. "Better gear up, because there'll be a lot more of that where we're going. For both of us."


	3. Chapter 1: Raising an Army

Daisy blinked, looking as if she'd misheard. "You're leaving?"

Red sighed, willing the day to go by a little faster so he could be on the road and away from this mess. He was certain this wouldn't be the last time someone would give him that look.

He stood in the Oak residence's spacious living room, hands in his pockets, waiting for Viral to retrieve some items from upstairs. The floors were mostly pleasant, rustic wood (Red didn't know what kind, but he would have placed money on oak), giving the house a cabin feel the rest of Pallet was missing. Viral's older sister, Daisy, had been sitting on the couch over a throw rug, watching some TV show Red was certain would annoy him. Then he and Viral had strode in the door, and the next lecture in a chain would begin. He was looking forward to getting away from that at least.

"Yes," Red said simply. "I am skedaddling from these shores to become a Pokemon Trainer and ruler of the world extraordinaire. Your grandfather mentioned something about a pocket computer and gathering data, but I zone out frequently and I've already forgotten much of what he said."

Daisy swung her legs over the side of the couch, adjusting the blanket draped over her. "Yeah, you do. I just hope you'll be safe, wherever you're going."

Daisy was fairly tall, close to Viral's height but not quite there, brown straight hair meticulously brushed to cascade down her back. She was athletically built, which...pleased Red, but he didn't want to push his luck too far with flirts or jests. He wanted Viral annoyed, not murderous.

Red scratched his head, analyzing a very expensive lamp on a nearby desk and resisting the urge to prod it. "Training's a dangerous profession, so safety probably isn't part of the job. But rest assured you will one day be able to say you knew Champion Hearthfire as a wee lad."

Daisy smiled, but Red sensed hesitancy in the smile. She was trying to be nice for him. "I'm happy for you, Red. I know you've wanted to leave Pallet for a while now. Should be interesting, seeing the world outside these tiny borders."

"I'll send you pictures and postcards."

"When will you be back?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Eventually?"

Her eyes drifted away. There was probably a lot she wanted to say, but wouldn't out of politeness. "Well, call often, visit when you can. I know being stuck in Pallet wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you do have friends, family and a home here. Don't feel like we're pushing you away."

Red crossed his arms, confident in his decision. "None of you did. I did."

He was interrupted by Viral's footsteps coming down the stairs at the far end of the room, a withered old piece of paper rolled up like a scroll tucked under his arm. Viral's prize map, one of them at least, a detailed, illustrated little beauty he'd made several years ago as a combination art/geography project. It would guide Red all throughout Kanto, and he was already making plans to fashion tiny markers and push them around the surface of the map like a general strategizing an attack.

Red winked at Daisy. "I will be back one day. It'll be as a conqueror, not as some shaggy-haired punk from the seaside village."

Daisy laughed, though again there was something hesitant about it. "You will always be our shaggy-haired punk, Red."

Red decided to take the compliment.

Viral hefted the tied-up map. "Try not to lose this too quickly. It took ages to get all the little dots right in the Moon Mountain Range."

Red slipped it out of his fingers. "I don't know, Viral. There's no toilet paper out in the wilderness."

Red turned and headed for the door before he could see Viral's face, but he could almost feel the glare burning into his back.

* * *

Christine blinked, looking as if she'd misheard. "You're leaving?"

Deja vu. Red rubbed his eyes, praying this would be over with soon. It wasn't necessarily easy for him either, but severing his connections was mandatory. There wouldn't be peace or comfort wherever he was going, and certainly no family. "We've discussed this many times, Christine. The moment an agent of death falls into my lap, this world is toast, and I am the toaster."

The Bulbasaur leaned out from behind Red's legs. "Pretty sure the 'agent of death' bit refers to me."

Christine set the little clay jug she'd been working on down on the dining room table and turned her chair around to face Red. Her poker face was not as practiced as Daisy's. She was slim, average height, her dark brown hair tied back while she worked on her side business. Red's littler-but-older sister. She tried to say something, stopped, then tried again. "Do you...do you know where you're going? What are you going to do?"

Plans. Red wasn't fond of making them, although he did now have a map he could push markers around, hopefully while wearing a huge, fancy hat. "Unless this Bulbasaur can swim ten miles to Cinnabar, we're going to Viridian first, where I plan to begin amassing my army and preparing for the takeover of every Gym in Kanto. That's all I've got so far."

The Bulbasaur leaned out from behind Red again. "Pretty sure the 'army' bit can be accurately translated as 'team.' I've heard about Pokemon League regulations, and every Trainer from the grimiest peon to the meanest warlord is limited to six Pokemon at a time."

Christine shook her head. "Do you have a place to stay? Have you thought about any of this?"

"Yes," Red replied. "Every night. I know how I'm getting to Viridian. The fun starts once I get there and start catching Pokemon and taking Badges."

Christine rubbed her knees, probably looking for polite, encouraging things to say like Daisy but lacking the strength to lie to Red about how happy she was. Red knew the lines between sister, mother and friend were all blurred for her. They'd been something weird and complicated for the past eight years, ever since the incident on Cinnabar. "I do want you to be happy, Red. I always knew you'd leave the nest eventually. You've just never exactly been good at planning, and..."

"But I am a master at improvising. Christine, I'll be fine. I'm the most knowledgeable Trainer with no Training experience around, and camping is fun and easy for me. I'll have a phone, a bag full of supplies, and don't forget, an army. This will work."

Christine clasped her hands in front of her, eyes sad and heavy. Why did she have to do this to him? "More experienced Trainers die all the time, Red. I just want you to be safe."

Red needed to cut this short. "I'll take being free but in danger over being cooped in and miserable. This is the chance I needed. I'm taking it."

Christine licked her lips, fishing around for a follow-up, but she merely nodded. Red hadn't made his aspirations of Training, Badges and general conquest a secret. It was just that nobody expected it all to start this day, not even Red.

Deep down, he knew Christine deserved more. She'd shown Red an endless amount of generosity when he needed someone to take him in, and her patience through his mischief-making was infinite. But Red couldn't stay. The will to fight had been building in him for years.

She knew that, and she couldn't stop him. She wouldn't meet his eyes again.

Red swallowed uncomfortably. He'd always been horrible at comforting people, giving advice, or generally being anything close to a normal human. But soon, he figured, he wouldn't have to worry about any of that. Things were going to be better. Right?

He headed for the staircase at the end of the living room, going to pack his things and leave before he could see his older sister cry.

So Red left Pallet Town, and the conquest began.

* * *

"Put your back into it," Red called. "Your teeth are so big I can practically see my own reflection in them. Put them to use."

Garlic glanced up at Red, sitting patiently by his side. "I don't think that helps."

A day had passed since he'd left Pallet Town. No more lectures, no more stares, no more wondering when a spark would enter his life and replace his mere day-to-day existence. It had been great, the Bulbasaur by his side, one foot in front of the other to Viridian City. He could have arranged to rent a jeep or hire another Trainer to escort him, but walking to each new challenge was a Trainer tradition. It was all part of the experience, and Red was loving it.

Halfway to Viridian the day before, Red had asked the Bulbasaur if she had a name. Turned out no one had ever given her one. Red took one look at the big green bulb on her back, smiled devilishly, and said, "Welcome to the team, Garlic." Garlic hadn't so much as twitched at the mention of her new name, so Red had no idea what she really thought of it.

The first day had passed rather uneventfully, just walking around the patches of tall grass that plagued the country, hemmed in by walls of trees guiding them northward. They'd reached Viridian by sunset, a relatively small, rustic city known for lumber export, its proximity to the Kanto/Johto Pokemon League, and little else. It was a stepping stone to greater things.

There were lodges all over Viridian and the Pokemon Center had rooms available for weary travelers, but Red wanted the full experience. He and Garlic found a tree outside Viridian's borders, he'd pulled out a sleeping bag, and they'd slept under the stars and a canopy of leaves. They'd awoken to another bright, sunny day. A good way to start Red's journey.

Poke Balls had been slightly more expensive than he'd been expecting, but he managed to buy five of them. They were the tools he would need to capture and carry his army, and Bulbasaur was merely the first soldier. The Pokemon around Viridian were usually fairly weak and tame, which was good for him since there was no way he and Garlic were capturing anything too powerful at this early leg of their journey. Rooting around Route 1 where they'd come from, Red had spied a small, purple rat Pokemon called a Rattata foraging for food. Garlic had pounced on it and pinned it to the ground within two seconds, leaving it helpless.

Red had given it an ultimatum: join his army or let Garlic smack it around for precious battle experience. That was the way of the world outside comfortable town borders, every man, woman, child and Pokemon for themselves, unless they were on a team. Now this Rattata had the chance to join Red's.

The first sound that had popped into Red's mind when he'd seen the Rattata's huge buck teeth was "avay." It hadn't made sense, but that became the Rattata's new name. Garlic and Avay, the beginning of an army.

And so the training had begun. Garlic had already picked plenty of fights earlier that morning and the day before, and Red could tell her body was toughening up as a result. Avay, however, was still weak and raw. Red needed her stronger.

Avay dodged around the beak of a small, fluffy bird-like Pidgey, keeping her distance. She was too shy about retaliating. Red knew enough of battling from study, theory and observation to know every advantage had to be pressed. "It's unbalanced," Red instructed. "Cut it off. Tackle it in the gut."

Avay danced around for a second longer before going in for the strike. The Pidgey squealed as she rammed her head into its chest, sending it tumbling backwards. Panting, dirty and bruised, Avay turned back to Red, expectation in her eyes.

Red rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, you did well. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Garlic frowned. "We should take a breather. Avay's not much of a fighter yet."

"A breather?" Red was already striding down Route 1, looking for a new target. "Rest is a long ways off. If this is gonna be a thing, we need to get the ball rolling quickly and early. Come on, Avay, the battles only get harder from here."

Still panting, Avay followed him, eager to avoid trouble and stay in her new master's graces. Garlic tailed Avay, repressing her commentary.

It didn't take Red long to spot another Pidgey messing about in the grass. It took one look at Red and his growing team and spread its wings in a threatening manner, cooing angrily.

"Show it you're stronger, Avay," Red commanded.

He could feel Garlic's eyes practically burning a hole in his back. He'd gotten pretty good about sensing when other people were staring at him.

Avay charged in, fangs bared. The Pidgey jumped aside, batting at her with a wing, bowling her over. She was trying too hard to be aggressive now. She couldn't think for herself in a battle yet.

Red scowled. "All right, create some distance. Let it come to you."

Avay turned her small, twitchy head to her Trainer, bewilderment in her wide, red eyes. From her perspective, it must have sounded like he was contradicting himself.

The Pidgey dove in for the attack. Red's eyes shot to it. "Avay, get out of the way!"

The Rattata saw the maneuver too late. The Pidgey's talons raked across her body, carrying her several feet in the air before dropping her back down to the grass with a spray of blood. Sensing the danger, Garlic bounded across the soil, jumped, and slammed into the Pidgey, knocking it into the tall grass and obscuring it from view.

Red frowned, watching the scene before him - the Pidgey gone, Garlic obviously pissed, and Avay lying in the middle of the route bleeding. "What the hell happened?"

Garlic angled her head just enough to glare at Red. "Might I suggest checking for a pulse?" she advised, her words tightly wound like a spring.

He was still a little too stunned to think clearly. "What?"

Garlic turned away from him. "Never mind, I'll do it." A vine snaked out from under her bulb and pressed itself gently against Avay's neck. After a few seconds, Garlic pulled it back and said simply, "There's no pulse."

Red ran a hand through his hair. "Avay's dead?"

Training was a difficult profession. Death for Trainers and Pokemon alike wasn't terribly uncommon. No wonder Daisy and Christine had been so worried for him. He was perfectly aware of the risks, but he never thought he'd have to deal with the loss of a teammate so quickly.

The loss of Avay hurt, more because of what it said about him as a conqueror and Trainer than because he'd lost a friend.

Garlic moved toward Red, her stoic expression going firm. "Listen to me. I know damn well what I signed on for - blood, war, conquest, the whole package. I've seen Pokemon die. Some of them were family. I've accepted this."

Red sighed, shaking his head. "I know, it's just-"

"I'm not done. If you really intend to make this whole 'ruling the world' thing work, Avay won't be the only death on your conscience, but you can still save the rest of us. Avay died because you were reckless and careless, not because she was too weak or the Pidgey was too strong. It's a Trainer's job to bring out the best in their team, and now Avay will never get that chance."

Red stared at the dirt, hands on his hips, trying to keep his head on his shoulders. "All right, I'm sorry. I was reckless. That's no way for a conqueror to lead his army."

Garlic didn't look like she entirely believed him. She passed him by, heading back in the direction of Viridian City. "I'm told humans bury their loved ones. What you do with Avay's corpse is up to you. Afterwards, continue to build your army. And when it's time to rest, do so before I have to bring this up again."

Red clenched a fist. He wasn't exactly certain what he was angry at. He relaxed his posture and looked back to Avay. Suddenly the high of being on his own and at the helm of a growing army had lost its shine.

* * *

He and Garlic didn't say a great deal after that.

He was tempted to leave Avay and continue his journey, but something in his gut wouldn't let him be so callous. He dug a haphazard grave on the side of the road, placed the unmoving Rattata's body in it, covered it up, and put a collection of stones over it to mark her passing. Unsure of what to say, Red had merely stared at the makeshift grave for a few seconds before walking away, now questioning every step he took.

Soldiers laid down their lives for a greater cause. Even if she hadn't known it, Avay had done the same. The notion brought him some measure of comfort at least, giving him something to hold onto while he continued his march.

He couldn't tell if it was Garlic's dagger-filled looks or his own damn conscience that kept beating the same message into his mind: _You're a cold-hearted bastard, Hearthfire._

Red's twisted, contradictory persona plagued him all the way to Route 22, directly west of Viridian City. The charming trees, ponds and grassy areas led to a brick road winding alongside a steep mountain to the north. The way would eventually lead to Victory Road, the fancy name given to the cave full of dangerous Pokemon that served as the final obstacle to the famous Indigo Plateau, the Pokemon League's branch in the Kanto and Johto regions where they strategized, held meetings, challenged aspiring Trainers, and presumably did other Champion-y things Red wasn't familiar with.

Yet one day he would sit there as well, and people would call him Champion. He used that thought to fuel himself onward.

As he was admiring the scenery, ponds, mountains, forests and all, something screeched from the treeline above. Red had enough time to look up as something white, round and fluffy attached to his face, still screeching like a banshee. Red's own screams were muffled in its hairy body wrapped around his head.

"Get it off me!" he shouted, hoping Garlic heard and understood.

The fluffy creature pounded on his head, rattling him with the palms of its hands. He grabbed hold of it and tried to pry it off, giving himself just enough space to breathe properly. A vine whipped through the air and knocked the Pokemon out of his hands a second later, sending it rolling into a pond with a splash.

Red's face was the color of his own name from where the Pokemon had pulled on it. He rubbed his head, still seeing stars. "Now what was that?" he muttered.

The Pokemon erupted from the pond, spraying Red with water droplets and still screaming bloody murder. On instinct, Red unhooked a spare Poke Ball from his belt, pressed a button, and hurled it at the ball of fluff with a shout. The Ball opened, and with a flash of light, the Pokemon disappeared within. The colorful orb clattered to the ground, rocking back and forth as the Pokemon fought to escape its digital prison.

For insurance, Red grabbed a rather large stick that had fallen from the tree when the Pokemon had pounced on him. A few seconds later, the Ball stopped rocking. The Pokemon had been successfully caught and registered to Red's Poke Ball.

Red inched closer to it. "When I open this Ball, I want you to tie the Pokemon up with your vines. Think you can do that?"

Garlic widened her stance, ready for action. "I've got it under control."

Red slowly reached to the Poke Ball, pressed a button on it and stepped back, stick raised. Garlic's vine shot out and wrapped up the creature, though it wasn't moving much, only glaring at Red with tiny red eyes over a pig-like nose.

Red straightened, believing the worst was over. "A Mankey. One of those adorably-destructive Fighting-types west of Viridian. What a catch."

A fire blazed in the Mankey's eyes. "I will use your spine as a deadlift," it threatened, voice high and crackly.

"He's not lacking for tenacity," Garlic observed.

"Good," Red grunted. "We could use that." He knelt to the Mankey's level, staring it down eye-to-eye. The Mankey fought against Garlic's vine, but she held tight. "Today you've turned your ire on the king. Tomorrow you will turn it on his enemies. I will give you no end of spines to lift with. Okay, that actually sounds a little more morbid than I was going for, but still. You will never attempt to eat my face again. You will eat the faces of our enemies." He rose and patted the Mankey on the head. The Mankey squirmed harder. "Welcome to the team, FaceEater."

Garlic looked slowly to Red, still keeping her vine firm. "You are not actually naming him that."

Red lazily threw the stick into the pond. "We are actually naming him that. Quite fitting. I think he'll grow to like it." He spun a finger through the air. "Follow along now, you two. There's far more work to be done."

Groaning, Garlic trotted after Red, dragging FaceEater the Mankey along behind them. Confident as Red tried to appear, he was still questioning his abilities as a Trainer after watching his second Pokemon die. He'd always thought he would hit the ground running after all his studying, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

Despite his threats and promises, FaceEater actually gelled with the team rather well. Almost casually, Red had gone on about all the places they'd go and the people they could karate chop, and FaceEater had listened with twitching ears. By the time they're reached Route 2 north of Viridian, having skirted the city edges to give FaceEater time to adjust to this whole "Trainer" thing, FaceEater was laughing gleefully and Garlic felt safe enough to retract her vine. If the Mankey ever flipped a switch and went into instant kill mode, Red could quickly and easily return him to his Poke Ball, though that plan wouldn't last long if FaceEater figured out how to leave the Ball on his own.

Red had this under control. He was not weak. He'd just made a few mistakes, ones he'd never allow to happen again.

* * *

It was sometime in the afternoon. Red had spent most of his time trying to bond with his team and train where they could. The trust falling exercise hadn't worked out so well when FaceEater failed to identify the "trust" part and let Red fall like an angel to the hard terra firma below.

Route 2 looked a lot like Route 1, but the trees were bigger, more daunting, and more numerous, heralding the entrance to the dark, winding Viridian Forest. The only way forward would be through there. Until then, Red would build his army, and he needed only the fiercest.

He leaned against a tree and crossed his arms, staring into the forest far ahead. Garlic watched the trees and shrubs around them while FaceEater absentmindedly hacked at insects that strayed too close. Red had spoken the truth to his old frenemy Viral back in Pallet Town. He had no plan, just an ideal, to be as strong and independent as possible. He wanted every spine to sit straighter and every anus to clench tighter the moment he and his gang of war machines entered the room. There was no multi-part strategy for that. There was only the open method of catching Pokemon, training them, and taking on every Gym and bigshot he could find until his name was known.

And then when the time came, he would take on the great protector of the Kanto region, the Champion, and take their title. It wasn't a free pass to write his own rules, but it came with perks like influencing the passing of laws, commanding respect, and hot tubs. Or at least Red assumed it did.

Probably a lot better than waiting to die in Pallet.

When he was strong enough, he would visit Cinnabar and learn why he'd been stuck in that hicksville to begin with.

He was jolted out of his reverie as something warm and wet fell to his shoulder. It was milky white, yet also of a thick texture. Red resisted the urge to roll his eyes back into his head. It seemed a denizen of the tree had found a perfect, unmoving target.

He turned his eyes upward. Glaring down at him from a branch higher up was a Pidgey, feathers ruffled and sticking up on the back of the head like a cowlick. It didn't look angry, just rather testy.

Red waited for the Pidgey to offer some sort of explanation. When it didn't, Red growled, "Is this how you say hello?"

"I've got some more in the tank," the Pidgey grunted. Its voice was fairly low for an unevolved Pokemon, already mature, probably a scrapper. Definitely male. "Blackberries. Good for cleaning out the pipes."

Red slowly angled his body to face the Pidgey fully. "My good pigeon, do you know whose shoulders it is you have bleached with the inside of your large intestine?"

"I don't know," the Pidgey responded, face impassive, "but he ain't very observant."

"Your testicles are large to speak so boldly."

"I feel another one coming on. You gonna move out of the way this time, or are you trying to dye your shirt a different color?"

"I will remain where I stand. If one blackberry-infused milky cascade graces my shoulders, I will have my Mankey personally widen your exit hole so you couldn't hold it in if you wanted to."

FaceEater stopped chopping at an ant, responding to his title. Garlic watched the Pidgey out of the corner of her eye. Strictly speaking, both Garlic and FaceEater were at a type disadvantage against the Pidgey's Flying.

"Yet here we stand," the Pidgey intoned, eyes wide and dramatic, "the unstoppable force and the immovable object."

"Don't you do it."

"The door. Is opening."

Garlic squeezed her eyes shut. "Please, Red, throw the damn Poke Ball."

Red didn't move, gaze still locked on the Pidgey with the ruffled feathers. "Join my army. Become a legend of the skies, not just a peon in a tree. Or a poop-on, as it were."

The Pidgey cocked his head a little. "What's in it for me?"

Red grinned. "Whatever you want. Power. Conquest. A life that's better than relieving your bowels on unwary passerby. You've got gumption, and I need that in this army."

The Pidgey looked between Garlic and FaceEater. "You're a few soldiers shy of a platoon, I think."

Red sighed. "Well that's why we need you, genius. Swell our ranks and defecate on the shoulders of our enemies. You look like you could use a good fight. We'll give one to you. And many more."

The Pidgey paused, then hopped from the branch and landed lightly on Red's clean shoulder. Red leaned his head away in case he changed his mind and decided to peck his eyes out. The Pidgey glanced down at Red. "I've seen a lot of my friends come and go thanks to Trainers. Most don't try and sweet-talk their way into an army. But hey, might as well see where this is going."

"That's a good answer." Red paused. "Are you still feeling another one coming on?"

"Strongly."

"Get off my shoulder."

"Now there's a leader." The Pidgey dropped from Red's shoulder and landed between Garlic and FaceEater, shaking his tiny avian body before turning back to Red. "Take me to a good fight."

Red started to wipe the line of bird poop off his shoulder, then stopped when he realized he was just making it worse. He threw the Pidgey a dirty glare, then stripped from his shirt and dug through his bag for a new one. "Welcome to the team. Sit tight and I'll assign you your new name."

"Just a heads up," Garlic whispered, "if you're expecting something cool like 'Airscream' or 'Wingblade,' you're out of luck."

The Pidgey stared at Red using his peripherals. "Those sound pretty good to me, actually."

Red gave the Pidgey a once-over. The tuft of feathers sticking up on the back of his head caught his attention. "Welcome, brother Cowlick. You'll be our aerial expert."

His expression unchanging, Cowlick looked back to Garlic. "When can I kill him?"

* * *

Red limply pounded a fist on the door, more out of a mild sense of frustration than to be heard. The sun was just beginning to set now, cooling the air and bathing rustic, tree-lined Viridian City in orange and purple, deepening the shadows that loomed all around them. Most of the day had been spent training with his new army of three. No more deaths had occurred under his belt.

Much as he tried to push Avay to the back of his mind, the early loss in his journey stuck with him. A Pokemon died because of him.

He shook his head. One sacrifice of many, he was sure, and he couldn't stop to mourn them all. Or rather, he wouldn't.

 _Cold-hearted bastard._

He stood before the famed Viridian Gym. Not famous for its Leader or its battles, but rather for their surprising lack thereof. Red had heard rumors of Viridian Gym and how its Leader was either never around or sending underlings to battle in their place, and now he saw the ugly truth in the rumors.

He hadn't wanted to actually battle, just stick his head in the door and see what a Gym interior actually looked like to mentally prepare. Big, sweaty humans and Pokemon alike lifting weights, maybe, or quietly meditating and contemplating their roles in the universe as Trainers. Now he wouldn't even have that luxury.

The Gym wasn't even that impressive. It was like an oversized warehouse, nothing charming or fancy like the pictures of the other Gyms he'd seen. It might as well have been in the back of someone's garage.

"So what does this mean?" Cowlick grunted, sounding a little jaded. "No more fighting today?"

FaceEater was crestfallen. "No more fighting?"

Red cupped around his eyes and tried to peer through the front window on the door. Nothing but darkness within. "Nope. Viridian's Gym Leader is apparently too important to, you know, be a Gym Leader. Makes me wonder how anyone gets to challenge the League in these parts."

As always, Garlic wasn't fazed by the new development. "Remind me again what Gyms are supposed to do, besides encourage working out."

Red stepped back from the door, searching his memory. He gestured back and forth with his hand, finding no explanation sufficient. "Well, I mean, that's part of it. They're more like dojos people can sign onto in order to train their Pokemon, and there's probably some mystic stuff surrounding it, too, maintaining the Gym's ideals and disciplines and whatnot. Any old Trainer can walk inside and demand to battle the Gym Leader, and if they win, they get a shiny new Badge. Bragging rights aside, if they get all eight Badges from every Gym Leader in Kanto, they get to challenge the Pokemon League, meaning they have a shot at becoming the new Champion and sitting pretty in the Indigo Plateau. Every other Trainer's dream."

"So you've gotta beat the army," Cowlick summarized, "before you can take on the general. Makes sense. And that's what we're doing, huh?"

FaceEater hopped onto the door and spread his arms and legs between the borders of the window, holding himself in place. "I do like punching."

Red ran a hand through his hair. "Yup. It's a way of proving you have the strength, fortitude and team cohesion to rightfully guide the land. It's how this land evolves and changes. So you can see why the Viridian Gym Leader needs to pull his head out from between his buttcheeks and start accepting challengers."

"Sounds lazy," Cowlick drawled.

"Any idea who the Leader is?" Garlic asked.

Red shrugged and began to walk away. "Got me. Most Gym Leaders try to help out their communities, make themselves known, draw in bigger numbers. Whoever's running this joint skipped the Marketing 101 class. It's a disgrace, and it's this nonsense I'm going to do away with once I'm Champion."

"That easy, huh?" Garlic pressed.

Red shook his head, walking toward the Pokemon Center. "Not easy, no. Everything and everyone will stand in my way. That's why we've got to work together, and it's why we can't stick around long."

His meager team followed behind him, bound to him either by morbid curiosity or an unwritten code of honor. Red hoped they knew what they were signing up for, because even Red himself wasn't quite sure.

"So where to now?" Cowlick asked.

"Dinner," Red answered, "team bonding, sleep. Bright and early tomorrow we're leaving this dump to head north to Pewter City, where I hear the Gym Leader is not a gigantic Kangaskhan turd. We'll start hitting all the Gyms around Kanto, and so help me, if this Viridian Gym is not open by the time I return, I will raze it to the ground, track down the Leader, and pry the Badge from his weak, clammy fingers."

There was a pause behind him. Red could tell Cowlick was looking at his new teammates. "You sure know how to pick 'em, huh?"

"It won't be boring," Garlic said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Red turned the corner of a building, following street signs to the Pokemon Center deeper into the city. It would not be boring. Red barely knew the meaning of the word.


	4. Chapter 2: Pride

_Red was ten years old, sitting on the couch in the modest, comfy Pallet home he'd grown accustomed to over the past year. His hair stuck up in places, no comb having graced his head. It was sometime in the morning, though Red had lost track, absorbed as he was into the wildlife channel on TV he watched religiously._

 _Pallet Town wasn't so bad, he thought. There wasn't much to do, but it was very pretty, and the people were usually nice. He glanced out the window facing south, out toward the ocean. His parents were on Cinnabar now, working for a better future, discovering the secrets of the universe. His parents were so cool that way._

 _He peeked down at the slightly crushed pine cone in his right hand. He'd taken it from the top of the tallest tree bordering Pallet Town, conveniently hidden by the protrusion of a cliffside so no one could see him and tell him to come down. His parents were doing groundbreaking, impossible things on Cinnabar, and Red wanted to prove he could do cool things too._

 _His mom and dad had never actually mentioned what they were doing on Cinnabar, but they'd always said it was really cool. He'd never had a reason to doubt them._

 _They were supposed to be coming home soon, and then he'd show them the pine cone as well as the shaky picture he'd taken from the top of the tree. The view was absolutely beautiful, like nothing one could ever see from the ground. He wondered why more people didn't climb trees like he did. Sure, he'd scraped up his arms and legs on the tree bark, and he had to tell Christine he'd just tripped instead of admitting he'd gone four stories up a dangerously swaying tree, but the risk just made it more fun._

 _His mother would always get huffy once she found it how he'd risked his life for a simple bauble or bragging rights, but then she'd hug him and tell him how much she loved him and wanted him safe, and in some weird, twisted way, Red craved that expression enough to do something crazy and stupid all over again. Just to hear her say "I love you" in the most genuine way before disappearing back to the island._

 _His father was different. His father would sigh, shake his head, and tell Red he shouldn't have gone so far for something that mattered so little. But rather than getting all emotional, his father would take a walk with him and calmly explain how proud he was of his little boy, his growing young man, not afraid to take risks and see the beauty in the world, even though he wished he did it more safely._

 _"You're not old enough to risk your life yet," his father would say, "but I admire that you have the courage to try. Remember that." Then they would often get ice cream or play on the beach, and his father would take the time to gently explain what Red should have done differently and why._

 _His mother's response and his father's were so different, and while both were really just forms of admonishment, he didn't know which he craved more._

 _Red's head snapped to the door as it opened and shut. It was Christine, his caretaker while his mom and dad were gone. She was only twenty years old, so she felt like a big sister to him. Now, Christine's movements were slow, like she was walking on eggshells, and her eyes were red. For a few seconds, she wouldn't look at him._

 _She didn't cry very often, and she was trying hard not to now, but even at his tender age Red could see the river building up behind the dam. He felt his spirits sink. He got the feeling he didn't want to hear whatever she was about to say. Had she lost her job? Had a friend died? Red was no good at comforting people._

 _Christine took a shaky breath in and crossed the living room to sit on the couch beside him. She muted the TV and finally looked him in the eye. "Something's happened," she said, voice wavering, trying to maintain an assuring smile, but she wasn't much better than Red at this. She paused, sniffing as the tears threatened to spill over._

 _Red's body felt numb. Every second that passed hammered in the point: this was about to sideline his entire life. He wanted to crawl away, but he couldn't move._

 _Where were his parents?_

* * *

Red awoke to something viciously slapping him in the face back and forth. He rolled over, trying to shield his head, flailing at his attacker and feeling something warm and fuzzy standing on his chest. The slaps kept coming, smacking him against his arms as he covered himself.

"All right," he heard Garlic order, "he's awake. Get off him."

Red peered through his arms to find FaceEater on his chest, arm raised in prime slapping position. FaceEater stared him in the eye for another second, slapped him one more time, and hopped off, retreating to Garlic and Cowlick by the tree they'd camped under.

Red sat up in his sleeping bag and rubbed his face. He'd woken up to worse things, but he still wanted to strangle FaceEater. If only the Mankey had a neck. "I don't remember appointing any of you as my personal alarm clock."

"'Bright and early tomorrow,'" Cowlick said. "Your words exactly as we left the Gym yesterday. The sun is over the horizon, and we ain't moving yet."

Red growled, slipped out of his sleeping bag and began rolling it up. "So turn your karate chops against your conqueror?"

"Some people drink coffee," Garlic observed. "This is how FaceEater greets the morning, evidently."

Cowlick watched Red continue to work. "So what's the plan? Hit the forest? 'Cause you're damn lucky I joined this little crusade. All kinds of bugs crawling around in there I'm good at taking care of."

"Some crusade," Red muttered, returning the small sleeping bag to his pack. "Between Garlic judging me, FaceEater killing me awake, and you painting my clothes, I'll be kept on my toes at least. But we haven't actually battled any other Trainers yet, and therefore we don't have a great deal of money. There should be Trainers in Viridian Forest, and as you so aptly pointed out, you should be good at taking care of any problems. We'll have breakfast, buy some supplies, cut north through the forest, annihilate any opposition, get some dough, grab some lunch, train some more, and check out the Gym. If we're feeling confident and there's enough time, maybe we'll annihilate the Gym Leader too."

"Take it slow," Garlic advised. "These are Leaders among Trainers we're talking about."

Red hoisted the bag onto his shoulders and looked back to Viridian just south of them. "Most Trainers fight for money or honor. I fight to change the world. Few things are more dangerous than conviction."

* * *

Viridian Forest felt like it was hiding something. The trees parted enough to create wide passages guiding its travelers onward, probably a result of human meddling the way the trees were so neatly arranged. Despite the gaps of light, most of the forest was fairly dark, the sun obscured by the canopy branching out above. Red hadn't seen much more than a few small, slow Bug-type Pokemon, Caterpie and Weedle and the like, and they didn't seem very powerful, but he couldn't shake the notion that something large and ugly could have just as easily popped out of nowhere.

The forest was too easy. Anything too easy made him a little nervous.

Red wasn't impressed by his first real battle with a Trainer. It was some scrawny runt in a straw hat who claimed he was obsessed with bugs and wanted to catch all he could. Clearly his focus was on collecting and not battling, because even FaceEater with his type disadvantage against Bugs was able to nonchalantly stomp on the boy's Pokemon. It merely proved Red's point that not all Trainers had conviction. Without it, they were like free money dispensaries.

But as scrawny kids who cared more about bugs than battle, they didn't pay much. His battles in the forest gained him enough money for perhaps one expensive meal in Pewter City or a fresh new load of Trainer supplies. He could tell, though, that his team was growing stronger from the battles, both by learning new techniques and strategies and by their bodies physically toughening as a result of the battle-ready genetics of every Pokemon.

It took them about four hours to make it through the forest. Eventually the trees thinned, the sun shone down on them again, and they could see the big gray city up ahead, appropriately the same color as its name. As far as Red knew, they'd defeated every single Trainer in that forest.

He had this under control.

FaceEater looked positively radiant. A forest chock full of fighting was his version of a spa day. Cowlick looked a little bored, having encountered little trouble in the forest. Garlic was scanning each building in the city ahead, probably looking for the Gym. Despite her nagging, she'd cottoned on to Red's team and ideals better than anyone else so far.

"Huh," Cowlick grunted. "Never been on this side of the forest before."

"Is it everything you ever dreamed of and more?" Red asked.

Cowlick thought. "Well no. Why is the whole city monochrome? But then again, I guess it is kinda cool seeing life in the legends. There really is a city of stone on the other side."

Red led the way forward. "Come on. I have no idea what makes Pewter City cuisine unique, but we're about to find out."

"Rocks?" Garlic suggested.

It took them another one or two hours of walking before they reached the city limits. Compared to Viridian which had felt small, cluttered, and closely intertwined with nature, Pewter City's buildings were arranged in neat, symmetrical rows, separated by white stone streets. Most of the buildings were the same shade of either gray or light brown, but patches of color decorated the place here and there; gardens of vibrant flowers, parks with verdant green fields, the occasional neon street sign. It was actually a rather beautiful contrast now that Red saw it up close.

If Red was ever to settle down and raise a family somewhere, it would probably be Pewter based on all the places he'd visited so far. A car drove by the street in front of them, hinting at a thriving automobile industry in the place. Safe, clean, symmetrical, plenty to do. Not a bad place to live.

The city was also surprisingly quiet. Then again, it was, according to Cowlick, a "city of stone," sort of dead and unmoving by definition.

"Why is it so big?" FaceEater asked, wide eyes taking in the surroundings.

"Humans live in big settlements," Red explained. "They can't just set up camp anywhere like Pokemon."

"But we do," FaceEater rebutted.

Red shrugged. "We're strange. Let's find a city map, then a Pokemon Center, then some lunch. I'm starving."

The city map revealed Pewter to be just as orderly and symmetrical as they'd expected, almost a perfect grid all across the board. They could have easily played tic-tac-toe on the map. There was a Pokemon Center not far from the southern entrance to the city, so they made a beeline for it to heal the team, rest up, and plan their next move.

It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when they finally tracked down a restaurant boasting authentic Pewter cuisine. Turned out it relied heavily on meat, vegetables and mushrooms, courtesy of the wildlife and plants in the mountains surrounding the city. Interestingly enough, the restaurant did feature a "rock pie," which looked startlingly like a slab of stone but was actually made primarily of soft chocolate and marshmallow. It was pricey and he only ordered one, eventually surrendering it to FaceEater before the Mankey could flip a table in anger and make a scene.

Bellies full and curiosities piqued, they chose to explore more of the city, guiding themselves in the direction of the Pewter Gym. Asking around, most Pewter residents spoke highly of the Gym and its Leader, Brock. An honorable young man, they said, had trouble keeping his eyes open for whatever reason but a stalwart Trainer and reliable friend of the city. As expected, his Gym specialized in Rock-types. That ruled Cowlick out as a combatant, but Garlic and FaceEater would do just fine.

The outside of the Gym looked much more...Gym-like than Viridian's had. It was a perfect rectangle, colored a slightly darker shade of gray than the rest of the city. A garden of boulders, some in interesting formations, lined the path leading to the front door. A sign next to the entrance proclaimed the Gym's pride as part of the Pewter community and its strong Leader, Brock Stonewell. Everything about the man's name bespoke rocks. He was like Pewter City's flesh-and-blood incarnation.

For a moment, Red wondered what it would be like to have a Gym of his own and what the sign outside might say about him. _Pallet Town's first Gym, the most interesting thing about this bundle of sticks, led by Red Hearthfire who trains Pokemon, we guess?_ One day they'd have something interesting to say about him.

"Let's go inside and break stuff!" FaceEater screeched.

"We'll go inside," Red amended, "but keep the breaking down to a minimum. We need training and intel first."

Stepping into the Gym was like stepping into another world. The walls straight-up looked like stone; in fact, upon running his hand on the nearby wall, Red discovered it was, carved to look like the uneven wall of a cave. There was enough light coming in from unidentified sources to illuminate the interior, revealing another rock garden and a few Trainers milling about. Red knew there had to be back rooms and offices tucked away somewhere, but the initial room was the perfect first impression for newcomers.

One Trainer coached a Geodude and a Sandshrew in a clearing in the rock garden. Another polished a boulder by the edge of the garden, aiming to give it that perfect Gym shine. At the back of the room sat another man crosslegged, dark brown hair spiked up, a notebook in his lap and a pen in his hand. He had to be the Gym Leader, Brock Stonewell.

"Are we allowed to just watch?" Garlic asked quietly.

"Well, they haven't thrown us out yet," Red noted.

FaceEater raised a hand in karate-chopping-position and ran toward the Trainer with the Geodude and Sandshrew, screeching bloody murder. Red closed his eyes and bowed his head, cursing his misfortune, and trotted off after him. The Trainer looked up in time to see a furious Mankey charging him.

FaceEater flashed back to his Poke Ball just as he sprung at the Geodude. It wouldn't hold him for long, but it would buy them some time to explain and gracefully depart.

"What was that?" the Trainer asked, still a little shocked.

Red rubbed his jaw. "My Mankey likes to hit things, as I discovered this morning. He sees Rock-types and he goes bananas. No pun intended." At least Red assumed FaceEater's type advantage against Rock had spurred him onward.

The Trainer, probably not older than sixteen, shook his head in disbelief. "You need to reign in your Pokemon. Training's all about discipline."

Red frowned. "I know it is. FaceEater's a little raw."

On cue, FaceEater burst out of his Ball again, hand raised, screeching at the top of his lungs. Red grabbed a tuft of his hair to keep him from charging the Trainer's Pokemon again.

"So much for gathering intel," Cowlick snorted.

Now the Trainer looked angry. "You know what? That Mankey needs a hard lesson. If it wants to fight, let it have its way."

Red tried not to vocalize the swears building up in his mind. Breathing deeply, he stepped back and said, "Fine. Say the word, and I release this angry ninja to hack as he pleases."

From the back of the room, Brock watched them carefully but didn't move.

The Trainer stepped back as well, giving the Pokemon room to fight. His Sandshrew took the field first, sharpening its small claws against one another.

"This really should be Garlic's fight," Red mumbled. Per Trainer regulations, only one Pokemon per team could battle at once, or at least however many were agreed upon prior to the battle's beginning. He figured he would let FaceEater work the rage out of his system before switching to Garlic.

The Trainer nodded once. "Begin." He looked down to his Sandshrew. "Prepare for the long haul."

Red raised an eyebrow. Sounded like a strategy the team had practiced.

The Sandshrew curled up and its body began to glimmer. It was raising its own sturdiness somehow.

However, Team Hearthfire had practiced their own strategies. "FaceEater," Red commanded. "Heaven and hell."

Retaining enough of his bearings to remember his training, FaceEater slid at the Sandshrew, throwing it into the air with his feet before jumping up to meet it and slamming it with both hands back down to the ground. The Sandshrew opened up as FaceEater descended, hissing and extending its claws. FaceEater took one claw to his stunted nose before he caught both of the Sandshrew's hands and threw his head down into its chest, smashing it multiple times before jumping on it with both feet. He looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but so far it was working.

FaceEater jumped off, bleeding from the nose but still pulsing with adrenaline. The Sandshrew tried to stand, but stumbled and fell to its knees. The Trainer called it back and replaced it with his Geodude, an angry lump of rock with two arms.

FaceEater raised his fists as if he'd already won. "I have type advantage!"

Red ran a hand over his face. "I swear, this Mankey's going to be the death of me."

The Geodude turned around, shielding its face from the charging Mankey before producing a gathering of rocks seemingly from nowhere and hurling them behind it. FaceEater dodged sideways, letting most pass by and chopping one more that strayed too close, then dove in for the kill. His hands an inch from his target, he was stopped when the Geodude rolled away, grabbed FaceEater by the arm, and slammed him to Earth, picking him back up and bashing him against the ground multiple times like a ragdoll.

Red clenched his jaw. He wasn't exactly sure how to coach a Pokemon in the midst of being flung around like a toy. "FaceEater, uh...eat faces. Please."

Hearing the call to action, FaceEater snapped back to attention as if a spell had been broken and righted himself in midair, planting both feet firmly on the Geodude's head as it tried to slam him down again. Its momentum gone, FaceEater took advantage of the pause in action to grab the top of the Geodude and smash it into the floor. After a few more smashes, FaceEater gave it one solid chop to the back. His work done, he stepped off, tiny shoulders heaving.

"It's a capable Pokemon," a man's voice said.

Red had been so engrossed watching FaceEater practically execute the young Trainer's Pokemon that he hadn't noticed Brock approaching. He remembered what the city folk had said about Brock's inability to keep his eyes open. At the time, he'd thought it had been a metaphor for something, but no, Brock's eyes were squeezed so tightly shut it was a wonder he could see anything at all. Whether it was an interesting quirk or a birth defect, Red wasn't sure. He didn't look much older than his early twenties, and his bronzed skin indicated he'd probably seen a lot of sun. Ironic for the Gym's dark cave decor.

"I have type advantage," FaceEater huffed, a little more quietly this time. Red was actually rather impressed FaceEater even knew how to pronounce 'advantage.'

Brock nodded once slowly to FaceEater as if afraid to invoke his ire. He turned back to Red. "But as Mileworth pointed out, it's unruly and undisciplined. You should work on it with restraint and subtlety so it doesn't seriously hurt someone."

Red shrugged. "In our business, isn't 'seriously hurting' sort of the idea?"

Brock started to pace. "Well, think of it this way: a day may come where you want 50% power, and your Pokemon may go 100% and destroy whatever it is you were going for. Control comes before power."

Red glanced down at Cowlick. "Are you taking notes?"

Cowlick spread his wings. "With what?"

Brock stopped pacing and sighed. "It's a dangerous profession. Without control and discipline, it won't be long before you go off the rails. If you like, you can battle me here and now, and you may learn something."

A mere two days after leaving Pallet Town, and Red was already looking at challenging a Gym Leader. Some were more notoriously powerful than others, but Red had forgotten what the tier list was like and where the Pewter Gym might be on it. Besides, Gym Leaders of any stripes weren't to be trifled with.

"Choose wisely," Garlic advised.

Cowlick toddled away from the center of the Gym. "I'm out. If you fight I'll be pulling for you."

Red had a little more experience under his belt since the day he'd started, and he'd learned his lesson from Avay. Besides, there was no way Brock would let it get so far as to seriously hurt another Pokemon. Hadn't control been his whole spiel? Red gave Brock a sharp nod. "You know, I think I'll take you on. What have we got to lose?"

Garlic sidled closer to Red. Under her breath, she said, "A lot if we're not careful."

Brock smiled. Red wondered if anything could ever knock the man off center. "Great. Let's find some real estate and we can begin. Remember, win or lose, it's an opportunity to learn something."

Cowlick snorted. "What is he, Lord of the Inspirational Flash Cards?"

Red gestured for the Pidgey to go further away. "You'll want to be pretty far when this starts, pipsqueak. One errant rock and you're pushing up daisies."

Brock settled himself about thirty feet away, not too far from where he'd been sitting with the pen and notebook. Red stayed where he was. Truth told, he wasn't confident he could win against a Gym Leader, even with FaceEater and Garlic on his side, but he felt compelled to push his limits.

"FaceEater, return to your Ball," Red instructed.

FaceEater looked betrayed. "What?"

"Garlic has this under control. You can take over if things get hairy."

FaceEater stomped his foot but flashed back to his Poke Ball anyway. Garlic walked into the fray, staring Brock down, waiting for his first Pokemon. She was putting faith in him. Given Red's shaky origins as a Trainer, there was a fair chance that was misplaced.

Brock crossed his arms. "Ready?"

"Yup," Red responded. Garlic threw him a quick glare, though he didn't know why.

A Ball on Brock's belt opened up, sending out a flash of light to the middle of the room opposite Garlic. It was another Geodude, this one a little bigger and craggier than the last. Brock had probably spent a lot of time raising this one.

"What's the plan?" Garlic whispered to Red.

Pokemon unlocked new techniques within themselves as they grew stronger. As far as Red knew, the only truly special ones she'd discovered were two called Leech Seed and Vine Whip, and he hadn't had a lot of experience with them. They would have to wing it and hope Garlic's type advantage would push her through.

The young Trainer, Mileworth, stood at the edges of the room like a referee. He raised his hand, chopped it downward, and said, "Begin."

Faster than Red had expected of a small boulder, the Geodude tucked its arms in and rolled forward, barreling toward Garlic. Not knowing which ill-practiced strategy to use, Red merely said, "Uh...Vine Whip."

Standing her ground, Garlic lashed at the rolling Geodude with a vine, but it unfurled at the last moment and caught the vine in its hand, pulling it aside and throwing her to the floor. She returned to her feet with a grunt, in pain but still full of fight. The Geodude produced a shard of stone within its palm and punched forward, carrying its body with it. Garlic dodged aside, choosing not to whip at it in case it grabbed her again.

Brock's Geodude was too quick and perceptive. Conventional methods of attack wouldn't work. However, Brock expected Red to be a fresh, inexperienced Trainer, and while he technically was, he was far craftier than he let on. So long as Brock and his Pokemon didn't think Red was smart enough to try anything new, they would keep using the same strategies. Putting on his best dumb Trainer face, Red sputtered, "Uh...Vine Whip. Again. But hit him this time."

Garlic glanced very briefly in his direction. She hadn't known him long, but she probably sensed something was up. Red hoped she caught onto his strategy.

The Geodude turned and flung the shard of stone in its hand. It shattered in midair, showering Garlic with pellets of rock. She hunched over, letting her bulb absorb the hits for her, then charged at the Geodude with two vines extended, whipping around it. It deflected one vine with an arm, grimacing through the type-induced pain, and rolled out of range of the others.

Brock's face was expressionless, but he and the Geodude almost looked a little bored. Doubtless they'd sent plenty of arrogant young Trainer hopefuls packing. They were in the perfect frame of mind.

Garlic was observant. She would understand what Red would say next. "Garlic. The last strategy."

Actually, the last strategy Red had instructed was "eat faces," but he knew she would think back to the "heaven and hell" technique. She charged the Geodude one more time, flinging the vines at its lumpy body. She withdrew them just before they reached the Geodude's arm length, watching as it grabbed at nothing, then circled them low and scooped up, wrapping around its body and carrying it high into the air. Straining from the heavy load, Garlic slammed it back down to the ground, pulled the vines back, and lashed both across its body.

On the other end of the room, Brock's eyes had opened slightly.

The Geodude rolled back and forth, trying to get back to its feet, but Garlic had been too successful. It disappeared back to its Ball with a flash. Something far bigger flashed onto the battlefield in its place, expanding rapidly, growing until Red was concerned it would overtake the arena. Red jumped back on instinct.

The flash faded, revealing the pewter-hued rock body of a gigantic snake, somewhere around thirty feet in length, composed of a long segment of boulders linked together. A long horn protruded over a furrowed brow, the surprisingly human face of an Onix.

Fully stretched, the Onix would poke through the ceiling. Garlic was barely taller than Red's knee. Type advantage or no, it didn't look good. Even worse, they'd already used up their element of surprise, so Brock would be on guard for it.

"What now?" Garlic whispered too low for Brock to hear.

Red raised a finger. "Uh..."

The Onix roared and drove its horn down at Garlic. She jumped out of the way, sliding to a halt as it righted itself before it could crash into the floor and circled around her. Despite its size and weight, it really did seem in control of itself. Cheers and accolades to Brock for carrying through on his ideals.

Red recognized the Onix's maneuver, though. He'd seen it performed countless times on TV and videos online. Trap the opponent, tighten the coil, squeeze the life out of them until they either passed out or gave up. Or were crushed into pudding, but given Brock's speech about discipline, he was counting on the man not to go that far.

Garlic was so tiny. Bulbasaur were sturdy, but even she couldn't handle an Onix's crushing grip for long. On instinct, he merely called, "Seed."

The Onix tightened the coil, wrapping the thinner end of its tail around her. Before it could complete the move, Garlic's bulb opened, spitting a medley of seeds into the Onix's boulder-lined body. The seeds hit the crags between the boulders and immediately sprouted into tiny plants. Leech Seed, a devious technique that would continuously siphon the life from an enemy until they lost consciousness. It might not save her from the bind, but it would weaken the Onix and delay its victory.

She gasped as the Onix tightened its tail around her, squeezing in on her. Leech Seeds or no, she wouldn't last long.

Red remembered a technique he had brought up to Garlic almost jokingly the previous day. It was a longshot, but she was trapped and Brock had already seen them redirect their attacks. They needed to play with their minds again.

"Whiplash," Red ordered.

Brock gave Red a quizzical look. Perhaps he thought in the heat of the moment Red had forgotten what Vine Whip was called.

Garlic squirmed in the Onix's grip, trying to get enough room to shoot a vine out. With a final struggle, she angled herself just enough to pry a vine free. It writhed in the air for a moment, too weak and out of control to attack at first.

The Onix glared down at its prey, casting a dark shadow over Garlic. Garlic's vine attached feebly to the tip of the Onix's tail, trying in vain to pull it free. A low rumble came from deep in the Onix's throat.

"You can do it, Garlic!" Red yelled, pretending to spur her into pulling the tail off.

That was impossible. The world's strongest Bulbasaur couldn't pry off the tail of a Gym Leader's Onix, not when it was all locked up. They did, however, need the Onix to think they were stupid enough to try.

Garlic pulled at the tail for one more second, then reversed direction in a flash and hit the Onix straight in the eye. It roared and reared back, loosening its grip. Garlic struggled out from the Onix's wrap and hopped to the floor, taking in deep breaths after having her lungs constricted. The Onix turned, trying to knock her aside with its tail.

Red had been sure to go over evasive maneuvers with Garlic. "Vine away."

Garlic lashed at the Onix's horn with her vines, wrapping them around it before pulling herself up and over the sweep of the snake's tail. Dangling from her vines, she was nearly blown aside as the wind in the tail's wake blew over her. She released one vine, letting herself drop to the floor before wrapping it back up and pulling forward. Off balance and succumbing to Garlic's momentum, the Onix pitched head-first into the ground, cracking it beneath its weight. For good measure, Garlic withdrew her vines a little and whipped them repeatedly across the Onix's face, hard enough to leave thin scars.

The Onix growled long and low, but didn't move. Garlic stood before it, panting and heaving.

If not for the combination of the last-minute Leech Seed and Garlic's Grass-type, she wouldn't have gotten nearly so far. She had just taken down a Gym Leader's Onix.

FaceEater sprung from the Ball on Red's belt, fists raised in victory. "You have type advantage!"

For a moment, Brock said nothing. Then a smile cracked his face and he started to laugh, long and genuine, from the heart. Mileworth, who had been staring dumbfounded at the defeated Onix, widened his eyes even more at what had to be his normally-stoic Gym Leader.

Brock crossed the room with several quick strides and extended a hand to Red. Red reluctantly met it with his own. Brock grabbed it with the other and gave him a hearty two-handed shake.

"Even Leaders are still learning new things," Brock said. The corners of his eyes were crinkling. He really was thrilled to have seen his own Pokemon beaten down and thrown about. "I learned to stop underestimating even young, fresh Trainers. Some humans and Pokemon alike were born to Train, and when they come together, magic happens. You've shown me this today, and I thank you greatly for it."

Red grinned at Brock wryly. "To be honest, I'm just as surprised as you are."

"I think that makes all of us," Garlic panted.

Brock withdrew his hands from Red's and went to his Onix's side, caressing its thick, stony body. "You won today because you and your Pokemon worked in sync to outwit my team and I. I thought you would lash at my Pokemon mindlessly as so many others have, but you reigned it in and fought with perception. Your team does have discipline. Draw that out in them. In yourself."

Red crossed his arms, feeling radiant. He'd beaten a Gym Leader. He'd left Pallet Town two days ago and he'd already beaten a Gym Leader, something that took most other Trainers weeks or months to do. He could conquer this region, and all of Yamato if he so desired. He would pry every answer out of Cinnabar. He would answer to no one.

Red opened his hand. "The Badge now, if you please."

"I haven't forgotten," Brock chimed. He reached into his shirt and lifted up a necklace Red hadn't seen. Numerous identical gray Badges lined it, twinkling in the light of the Gym. They were so simple, little more than three-dimensional octagons, yet they were enrapturing. He unhooked one and handed it to Red with reverence. "I'd wager this is your first Badge. With your resolve and ingenuity, you can get many more. Don't ever give up on this path."

Red snatched the Badge from his hand, studying it between his fingers. It was dense and heavy, smooth and polished. So simple, yet so beautiful he could hardly stop looking at it. "Trust me, I won't. Your Gym is a stepping stone to greater things."

Brock put a hand on his shoulder. Red may have just met the friendliest man alive. "Let the Boulder Badge be a constant reminder of your wit and courage, even when times get tough. Because they will, my friend, make no mistake. Training is a dangerous profession. Always remember: he who conquers others is a fierce warrior, but he who conquers himself is the greatest warrior. He can never be defeated."

Cowlick toddled into the fray between them, looking up at Brock. "Have you ever considered selling motivational posters as a side business?"

Red would conquer himself, this Gym, Kanto, Yamato, whatever it took. He couldn't stop. Victory was delirious, intoxicating. He craved more of it like a drug. He closed his hand around the Boulder Badge and turned for the exit. "I'll be sure to put your words on the wall of my Indigo Plateau office when I become Champion. Very inspiring."

"And you can get that far," Brock added, his parting words before Red left the Gym for his next conquest. "But you can only arrive at their doorstep by conquering yourself first."


End file.
